The-Boy-With-His-Father's-Looks
by tonygestaple
Summary: Brutally disfigured by a curse from Draco Malfoy, Harry is taken to a doctor, well, a sort of doctor...


Author's note: This is just a short scene that I couldn't help thinking of when I read a Harry Potter story just recently when a character said something we've all read so many times!

The-Boy-With-His-Father's-Looks…

Victor looked down at the young boy standing in front of him, the Boy-Who-Lived who's face had been terribly disfigured by a Dark curse cast by Draco Malfoy, a fellow student at Hogwarts. Nodding to himself, the tall doctor smiled and, gesturing with his hand, said, "Take a look in the mirror and tell me what you think."

The young boy turned to where the doctor was pointing, immediately frowning as he squinted quite forcibly in an effort to see something other than a blur that wavy lines appeared across his forehead, stopping where they met his lightning-bolt scar.

"Here," he heard the doctor say, "let me have those," and Harry, confused for a moment, turned back to the man, vaguely seeing him reaching towards his face and removing his spectacles. "Now try," the doctor then said, stepping back.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, turning back to face the mirror, and saw the same scene, though _this_ time in much greater clarity and detail.

He saw not only his reflection in the wall-sized mirror that lined the equipment-filled surgery-room, but that of the doctor holding his spectacles. What stood out, though, were the two emerald-green eyes that stared back at him, eyes that seemed to shine from their own brilliance and sparkling with magical energy just waiting to release itself upon the great world outside the old castle where the doctor practised his unique medical skills.

The mop of unruly raven-black hair Harry saw sitting upon his head instinctively made him start to raise his arm to run his fingers through it in order to bring some semblance of order, a state of tidiness to his appearance, but he let it fall back to his side, knowing from past experience that it would be a futile effort. His hair had a look of stubborn rebelliousness to it that wouldn't be restrained no matter what, and so he didn't even try.

"Yes, you look so much like your father," he then heard the doctor say, "except for your eyes, they're your mother's!"

It was an expression he'd heard so many times before, and reckoned if he had a galleon for every time he'd heard it when people met him for the first time, he'd need another vault in Gringotts just to store them all, but any other thoughts he may have had were curtailed when, still looking into the giant mirror, he saw what appeared to be three operating tables from a muggle hospital with somebody laying on two of them. Turning round to look at the actual tables, he saw that, yes, they _were_ real people, children, actually, and about the same age as him, he thought, and seemingly unconscious.

One of them was a boy, going by his exposed bare chest, but his face was just a mass of severed tendons and blood, his lidless eyes staring into space, a piece of cartilage protruding out from where his nose should be, and a lipless orifice where his mouth was. It also looked like he'd been scalped judging by the relatively smooth area of red around the rest of his skull.

The girl laying on the other occupied bed, though, still had her hair, and Harry plainly saw the mass of red curls on the pillow around her head, a head that, although it still had it's relatively intact face, two empty spaces where the poor female's eyes had been removed, and, for a terrifying moment, thought it was Ginny laying there, but the girl's hair was a slightly different shade of red compared to hers.

Looking then at the doctor, his head raising up because the man seemed to loom over him, he asked, "Who are those children, doctor, and what's happened to them?"

"Well, you see," said Victor, "although magic can do some pretty wonderful and amazing things, it's not the perfect be all and end all. Sometimes, we have to turn to the muggle-method of doing things, and after I found out about their sheep-cloning experiment, I became curious, and started experimenting in genetics until, one day, I succeeded in cloning humans."

"Yes," said Harry, "but who are those two children? Are they still alive?"

"Yes," said Victor, "they're still alive, in a sense, and they'll sleep until I wake them up again."

"But who are they?" Harry again asked.

"Well," said Victor, "when Albus first came to me and asked if there was any way I could help, you see, he'd tried every spell and counter-curse he could think of to repair what had happened to you, and failed, but knowing what I did about genetics, the answer came to me straight away, and so I said yes, I'd be delighted to offer my services if they could help the Boy-Who-Lived. The problem was, though, I'd have to remove all the skin from your head in order to do so!"

"You WHAT?" asked Harry, his emerald-green eyes almost bulging in shock at what he'd just heard!

"Yes," said Victor, "and you obviously didn't feel any pain or discomfort due to the sleeping-draught you drank before I started operating on you or you'd have said so as soon as you came round!"

"Er," mumbled Harry, "I suppose, yeah, you're right, Victor, sir. Um, sorry, I guess!"

"No need to apologise, young man," said Victor, smiling gently. "It's quite understandable for you to react in such a manner. Anyway, as I was about to say, for the operation to be a complete success, what I needed was to get hold of was some suitable genetic material, and Albus agreed to take me to your parents' cottage in Godric Hollow to see if I could find some. I must say, it was quite a humbling moment for me to see the actual place where you vanquished the Dark Lord all those years ago!

Although your father's body had been removed, and your mother's was destroyed in the explosion in your nursery,- Ah! Sorry 'bout that, Harry," said the doctor, seeing the look of grief appear on the young man's face. "Anyway, I found some hairs on a man's comb and a woman's hairbrush in the bathroom, and brought them here to my laboratory to start my solution to your injuries."

"Wha-what did you do?" asked Harry, still a bit tearful after being reminded of his parents' suffering at the hands of Voldemort that fateful Halloween.

"Well," said Victor, "I think it's pretty obvious what I did after you heard me telling you about Dolly the sheep the muggles cloned! I cloned your parents, Harry! That boy there is your father, or rather, a clone of your father when he was your current age, and the girl, Harry, is your mother as she was at your age."

"Wha-what happened to their faces? Why is there so much b-b-blood on them?" stammered Harry.

"Harry," said Victor, sighing. "How else do you think I could give you back your father's face and your mother's eyes?"

As Harry stood there, his mouth hanging open as his mind tried to parse what he'd just heard, the surgery door opened and a woman dressed in a white nurse's uniform entered.

"Doctor," she said, looking at the tall man, "Mr Dumbledore is here to collect Master Potter."

"Ah, there we are, Harry," said Victor, "your magical guardian is here to take you back to Hogwarts. Off you go, then, young man!" and watched as the nurse led the Boy-Who-Lived back out to the reception area, but as the surgery door almost closed behind them, he called out, "Oh, wait a moment, these are yours, I believe, Harry!" he added, handing back to the still-shocked boy the round-rimmed spectacles he had in his hand, "though I don't know what use they'll be to you now that you've got your mother's eyes, and Albus told me she had very good eyesight when she was still alive!"

Harry mumbled a barely-audible thank you and watched as the closing door shut off his view of the tall man's surgery, and leaving him to stare at the chest-high nameplate where, written in gold leaf set against a red background that reminded him of the decor in the Gryffindor Common Room back in Hogwarts, were the words 'Doctor Victor Frankenstein - Medical Research'.

-ooOOoo-


End file.
